Ever since I discovered my love of horses I have spent every waking hour at the barn. Over the years, the paint chipped walls and grassy pastures have become my home, my trainers and fellow riders my family, and my horses my best friends. It is in this place that I have found more happiness than I would have ever thought possible, but I have also been afraid, frustrated, and at times, sad. The barn has an astounding ability to turn bad feelings into something good. It takes your fear and shows you that you can be brave, and uses your frustration to teach you hard work and patience. It is a place where there is always a mane ready to catch your tears and the nuzzle of a velvety nose to bring back a smile, no matter what.

The barn has been my solace and my safe haven. It is an escape from the real world where there is always someone who is happy to see you. There, an animal ten times your size will allow you to climb on its back and learn how to fly. Dreams are created on lazy summer trail rides through the woods, and wills are tested during the wildest lessons in the dead of winter. Hard work is taught when frozen fingers fumble with standing wraps or when you choose not to skip your lesson on a particularly hot day. Commitment earns blue ribbons at horse shows and the appreciation and adoration of the horses you have worked so hard to care for. Trust me when I say that there are few better feelings in the world.

The universe doesn’t care who has worked the hardest or loved the most, sometimes bad things happen to good people. I know how unfair life can be thanks to the barn. A clumsy moment out in the pasture can be the end of a horse’s career, and a tummy ache can mean saying a heartbreaking final goodbye. The barn takes as much as it gives, but it makes us stronger. It teaches us that pain is important because without it we wouldn’t appreciate moments of joy, and shows us how to carry on despite our struggles.

Sometimes I wonder who I would be if I hadn’t stumbled upon my passion all those years ago, and honestly I don’t want to know. I am proud of the person the barn raised me to be, and yes sometimes it means that pictures of my horses will blow up your facebook, or that I may show up to the occasional event in riding pants with hay in my hair, but you know what I’m not sorry. I was raised in a barn, so I know how to stick up for myself and get my hands dirty. I can control my temper, have patience, and see the light at the end of the tunnel, but most importantly I can live without hesitation and love without reservations.